Waste
by The Blue Sorceress
Summary: Not having access to the next chapter of my current project I decided to post a little something I've been cooking up for a while. This story takes place at the same time as some of the events in 'Alone', and is Yamcha's perspective on his break with Bulm


Time for my instincts for angst to go on a rampage. Once upon I time I was like the vast majority of DBZ fans out there and I hated Yamcha, but then I began to write fanfiction, and as I started to do my usual writing thing and delved into the characters I whose stories I was telling, I began to feel pity for him. As I continued to write I paid more attention to his personality and history and such, and I began to accept him into the echelon of favorite characters. As it turns out he became one of the more important characters in my series of stories. As the unrepentant Yamcha fan I've become I was truly annoyed with the bad rap he gets in your typical V/B story. I've harped on this before, I know, but I feel it is time to give Yamcha a little short story all his own. This coincides with some of the events from my story, 'Alone', so reading that might help, however I do feel that this story can stand on its own just as well.  
  
This is also my very first attempt at a songfic.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or the song "Waste" by Smash Mouth. However I do reserve the right to smack Yamcha bashers over the head with Mallet-Sama.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
{I'm lookin' at my watch,  
at all the time that's been stolen,  
when I was carrying you.  
Seems I've tripped and I've fallen.}  
  
  
His eyes focused on the scuffed bar top in front of him, Yamcha sipped mechanically at the mug of beer in his hands.  
To his right sat an envelope, the top ripped open by frantic fingers and the contents half out. He tried to forget the envelope, but even with his eyes exploring the scratches on the bar top he could still see the sheaf of papers it held.   
  
He set his mug down and fumbled for the papers, looking at them with a sort of shocked detachment. In the next few moments of calm thought he wondered at his shock. He knew that it had been coming for sometime, but then again, perhaps the reality had never quite sunk in.   
  
Divorce, he decided, was an ugly word.   
  
Tracing his fingers over his scrawled signature the his beer was left forgotten on the bar. In some ways he was glad that his brief marriage to Bulma was over, and in some ways he felt as if he had lost a part of himself. He wondered when he would be whole again.  
  
It wasn't a lack of love that had driven them apart, he knew that. He loved Bulma still, and knew that she loved him, but that love wasn't the same as it had once been. As young lovers they had been so sure of their love that when they had gotten older they had not noticed that it had faded. They had married, still unaware that things between them had changed.   
  
  
{Don't want no one to ache.  
Oh to be drunk and forgetful.  
To get out of this unscathed.  
Oh, to be free and inhuman.  
Some may say I love to play  
When the chance is there to take.}  
  
  
Uncomfortable with the change in their feelings toward one another, Yamcha had allowed himself to be pulled away from Bulma. He had strayed, and he regretted it now, but perhaps it was for the best. He wasn't lacking commitment, he had been faithful to her the entire time they had been dating, it was just that marriage had been a step in the wrong direction. His heart had known it, his actions had tried to show him, but his mind grasped it until a week or two before when Bulma had sent him packing and served him the divorce papers. As he had looked at those papers he had felt an odd surge of relief, and he had known that this was the right course of action.   
  
  
{I'm moppin' un the floor  
from messy recipes of romance.  
I'm packin' up the pots-  
Too many cooks in the kitchen.}  
  
  
His friends had reacted to the news of his divorce with surprise. They hadn't thought that anything had been going wrong, but then again they weren't always the most observant bunch and he and Bulma had worked to present a united front while they had been struggling to make things work. The only one of his friends that hadn't received the news with shock was Goku, who had nodded, uncharacteristically sage.   
  
{Some may say I love to let  
A good thing go to waste.  
I let it go to waste.  
Let a good thing go to waste,   
a good thing go to waste.  
Let a good thing go to waste,   
A good thing go to waste}  
  
Yamcha knew that behind his back his friends had been whispering about how he had let Bulma slip through his fingers, or pushed her away with his actions, but what did they know? He had made the right decision, and he knew it. Yes, he still loved Bulma, but not in the same way. He would lay down his life for her certainly, but he would do that for any of his friends. The only thing he truly regretted was that he had gone into marriage without realizing the changes that had occurred. He had not wasted anything, but he had come close. He had almost ruined one of the best friendships he had ever had.   
  
  
{Lookin' at my watch,  
at all the time that's been stolen  
when I was carrying you.  
Seems I've tripped and I've fallen...}  
  
He put the papers back in their envelope and shoved them into his coat before wrapping his hands around his mug of beer again.  
  
He knew he had made the right decision, but that didn't mean that the realization that he had just closed the longest chapter of his life any less painful.   
  
  
  



End file.
